A Dancers Regrets
by sqquidkid
Summary: First sequel to Helpless. What has happened in the space of 6 years? Brittany's story. Probably spoilers through both seasons. Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters.
1. A Repossession

**This chapter won't make sense if you haven't read 'Helpless', I recommend you read it, but the next and following chapters will make sense regardless if you've read helpless or not, but I recommend you should anyway.**

_There wasn't a day that passed during the whole 6 years of her separation from Brittany that Santana didn't cry herself to sleep, though over the years her big cries turned into small sobs. She had gotten better control of her tears, the 6 years of rejection and depression had taught her how to hide her feelings. She built up the walls she had once with Brittany and added some more. She swore to herself that she would always protect everyone that she ever cared for. She wouldn't let anyone suffer as much as herself, and her very best friend had. She swore to herself that she would figure out a way to keep everyone close to her. She had regrets and she couldn't take them back, so without Brittany she put all her love and dedication to the few things she loved, singing, dancing and her faint memory of Brittany. _

_There wasn't a month that passed the 6 years of Brittany's separation from Santana that she didn't think about her choices, and how different things could have been. But when things got out of hand, she swore to herself not to dwell on the past. Santana had taught her that, dwelling on the past makes you live in a world of fantasy and great depression. She never got over Santana, and the pain in her heart never dulled down. Brittany was offered a job as a professional dancer and she put all her dedication to that, she was a well-known dancer._

_Brittany moved back to Lima a year ago, she lives on opposite sides of Santana, Brittany knew Santana wouldn't have the heart to move out of Lima. She never planned on going to see Santana because she thought it was selfish of her, to just turn up at her door still completely broken and in love. It was wrong. And anyway, she wasn't sure where Santana lived. They hadn't heard from each other ever since that text message Brittany sent Santana on Brittany's phone. Brittany was asked to write a book about how she landed her job and her childhood. She agreed, she thought it was a good way to get things out of her system._

_Santana stayed in Jenna's house for the whole 6 years. She stayed in Lima because she never gave up hope that Brittany would come visit some day. She's been signed onto a recording studio and makes a living out of writing and singing songs. She's well known, but just like Brittany, wasn't like a big star. Both of them were thankful for that, because neither one wanted the other to think that they were doing well without the other, because honestly they weren't. They only stuck with their jobs because it was the only thing they could do. _

_Santana got her first other love interest after Brittany the same month and the same day Brittany started to write her book. _

_2 months later the book was published, and Santana was still with her lover. This person was the only one person she had got involved with ever since Brittany left. But no matter how hard she tried, she never fully let go of Brittany, they hadn't spoken to each other for 6 years but Santana's love for Brittany couldn't have grown more. Santana kept all memories of Brittany and she carried Brittany's phone and letter everywhere she went. _

**So this chapter was quite hard to write because I didn't know what to have and how much to give away. This story is going to be Brittany's book, this chapter was just, um you could say 'a catch up.' Next chapter will be Brittany's book, just to clear up confusion. Also, I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit confusing. I don't know if some of the things here are correct because I wrote this before I wrote the last few chapters, so I apologize. I want some feedback, what would you like Brittany's book to contain?**


	2. Titles

**A Dancers Regrets.**

_**Brittany S. Pierce**_

The highs and lows, the breaking and the making.


	3. Dedication

_For Santana, my heart will always be with you._


	4. Predominantly

Predominantly.

Some people live to grow old, some live for love, but some live to die. For me, I lived for all three reasons. I never had a tough childhood in comparison to people living in poverty. My childhood was a confusing period of time for me. My childhood was when I opened my eyes, and accepted who I was. My first and last encounter with love happened in my childhood. My childhood was, like I said already, confusing.

I was born in the summer, in Lima. My parents, Richard and Judy were inexperienced when they had me. They were in love and treated me as an experiment. At first I thought it was normal. I didn't know how parents were supposed to treat their children. I went by how they treated me, because it wasn't wrong, not to my eyes. I didn't know the difference between right and wrong, but now looking back, I'm not angry at my parents. They had reasons and who am I to challenge their excuses.

When I was about 5 at school, I met a girl, she was called _Santana_. _Santana _was completely different from me, but I think that's what made us so aesthetically pleasing together. She was a bitch, no doubt about that. She had vicious words, and if anyone crossed the line with me, she'd be up in their grill the same second. She was protective of me, and I was protective of her. I like to think that I was the only person she opened up to, the only person she showed herself with. I could read _Santana _like a book, and she could read me like a book. We were perfect. She was, is?, my best friend.

When I was 10 my sister, Beatrice, was born. Instantly I could tell the difference in which I was treated and how Beatrice was treated. I didn't blame her; in fact I loved my sister. And anyway, it's not Beatrice's fault that she was so damn loveable. This time round my parents fell in love with what they saw. I wasn't jealous, I wasn't angry. Sometimes things don't work out. I was forced onto these people and I was thankful they hadn't given me away to live with some random stranger I otherwise wouldn't have heard of. Though it was obvious they didn't love me, they put up with me. They coped with me and that's as much as I could have asked for. They put a roof over my head and food in my mouth. Although they didn't care about me, I cared for them. I would never show them that of course but I really did care. I loved them, and I understood that love didn't always work both ways. So unfortunately for me, I had to cope alone. I fell in love with my family, even if they didn't fall in love with me, and I couldn't blame them. For ages I tried to find the meaning of life, I tried to understand too many things at once, and I think that's what made me academically dumb. Beatrice was the only one, in my family, who loved me back and that's what made it so hard. That's what made letting go so difficult.

All my life I had been told I wasn't good enough, that I was dumb and stupid. All my life, they had always put me down. And I believed every single word they told me, because it was true. It is true. I am dumb, and I'm not good enough. It was all true and that's how I coped. I coped by trying to outgrow the words they threw at me. I didn't care because it was true, and there wasn't any other way to change myself. It hurt though, the words they threw at me, though outgrown and old, it never failed to pierce my heart.

When I started high school, _Santana_ was always the one to look after me. She protected me from everyone and everything. She tried to shield me from the harsh reality of society, but no matter how hard she tried, I could see. I could always see, and she knew that. So, instead of laying our heads low, she told me that we had to get out there. We had to be the ones causing all the trouble. We had to be the ones everyone looked up to. And we did that, we tried everything. We joined cheerio's, and thanks to both our talents, we were good. No scratch that, we were better than the team itself. And that took us a long way. We were the most popular girls in the schools which meant we were the one slush-ing people's faces; we were the ones getting off with all the football players. Essentially, we were whores that everyone looked up to and none of it made sense to me or her.

_Santana _and I were close. No doubts, but there had always been something at the back of my heart that knew something I didn't. Sure, I always used to get butterflies when I saw her, and she could always light my face up just by being by my side, but I thought that was normal. I thought it was what happened to everyone every time their best friend was by one's side. But something was wrong, and slowly I realised I was confusing friendship with love. We were both confusing friendship with love.

Being in the cheerio's meant being a manipulative bitch, and over time _Santana_ had grown accustomed to it. I watched her turn into a bitch. I watched her hide herself away from the world, but no matter how good at hiding she got, she never really mastered hiding anything from me. Sue Sylvester, our coach, had this weird obsession with destroying our schools Glee club. She used us; I, _Santana_ and Quinn, the head cheerleaders, to destroy the Glee club and I quote "from within." At first it was a laugh, but it turned into something more. We learned to love Glee club, and I fell in love, as friends, with the people in it. Though _Santana _would never admit it, I saw the way her eyes glistened every time we were singing in Glee, and she did love Glee as much as I did.

_Santana _was a coward. She was stubborn, but she eventually figured it out. She eventually realised she loved me, and it scared her. It scared her to think that everything she worked so hard for could be destroyed because she's fallen in love with her best friend, who happens to be a girl. It scared her because she knew her parents would never be down with it. It scared her because she knew I loved her back, and she knew that if I hadn't love her back it would be much easier to brush it off. But I was so madly in love with her, and I was tired of waiting. I was tired of being unsure, and so was she. She backed off though, and I was so angry that I had used a boy, in Glee club, to try and make her jealous. It worked, but I wasn't proud. She was scared and she denied it to herself, even if she told me the truth.

She had this fling with some guy, called Puck. He was the ultimate manwhore and Santana had to keep this fling with him, if she wanted to keep everything she's worked hard for. Every now and then, they would use each other. Ultimately, they were fuck buddies.

And then it all started everything that had made me what I am now. My parents were never bad people, they never intended for something like this. They were clueless; they were dumb, just like me. They thought it was fine, they thought it was okay, so did I. And for a period of time, it was okay. I deserved it, for being such a bad person. I deserved it for all the lies I kept. I deserved every hit and every word because I was a bad person, so I hid it. I hid it from everyone, I hid it from _Santana._ So it got worse until it reached the point that I could no longer take it anymore. So I had to run away, I was forced to run away, because it was the only thing I knew. Everything I saw, and inhaled reminded me of how bad it really hurt, so I had to go. All my feelings bullied me out of the place, and I ended up on my own, because I could ask _her_ to give up her whole life ahead of her. I know I broke her, but I broke myself too. She needed a new perspective and I was holding her back from her whole life.


	5. One to Another

**Thanks for all the reviews guys, I'm trying to update as soon as I can, but at the same time trying to make chapters really long, because this is supposedly a book after all. Thanks for coping with me. This was supposed to be posted earlier, but I had writers block like twice, so yeah.**

**aLL4LeynA, oops, no I didn't know that, but let's just pretend that we live in this little bubble where no one has to ask permission to use someone's name when writing a book. It can be our little secret ;) And yes, that's right, I post all my chapters before I reread them, I know that's stupid, but cope with me ok? :)**

July 27. The day that I was born, the day that held my future. It was the day when my parents were to find out whether or not all that pushing and screaming was worth it. They didn't understand how hard looking after a baby was. They had no idea and they thought it was going to be a breeze.

They held me in their arms, trying to fall in love with me. They held me still trying to get a better look at me. They squint their eyes in the hope of finding something more than a little slimy red baby. But they could see nothing more. So they gave up and settled on the fact that it was just because I was slimy. And I wasn't looking my best. They settled for that because there was nothing more they could have done. They felt a pang of regret as they realised I wasn't what they had in mind. They felt a pang of anger and frustration as the minutes of not falling in love with me turned into days, weeks, months, and years. But they didn't give me up, and personally I think they were too dumb to realise they had 2 options all along.

I had lived in the same house throughout all of my childhood and teenage years. I remember always going outside to my front lawn just staring at the outside world, and occasionally staring up at the sky. I was never a nature person, but it gave me a sense of calm, it gave me a sense of peace. It was a hobby; it was what I did when I felt unwanted. I learnt, in my toddler years, that as long as you're out of the way, no-one will take any notice of you. No-one will take any notice of your presence. So from then on, I had always focused on getting out of the way; I put everything into it, so I didn't have any time to study, to revise or to take anything in. So, I guess that made me academically dumb.

I had always known, deep inside me, that my parents never really liked me, but I could always tell they were trying. They were trying so hard, to fight a losing a battle. And I admired them for that; no matter how much they were losing by they were always trying. Trying to love me in some way, trying to contain their frustration that no matter how much they tried they couldn't force themselves to love me even if they wanted to. They wanted it to be easier, they wanted to love me but they couldn't, so eventually, as they all do, they gave up. They gave up on me, and everything I was destined to be. They had always thought I was blind to the fact of this, but I was smarter than they thought. I'm smart, but not academically. I could always see through people, and I could always read them, no matter how long I've known them. I concentrated on this for the most part of my life, and eventually I got good.

Richard Pierce and Judy Pierce were the names of my parents. Though they couldn't fall in love with me, I fell in love with them; I mean how do you not fall in love with the people that brought you up? Is there not one part of your body that even feels something for them? They are people that took you on; the people who accepted the challenge of bringing up a human being. They brought you up for so long, without getting you killed. That must have been some challenge. It doesn't matter if they were trying for a baby or not, this was a big challenge and they still took you in.

I didn't know much about them. I didn't know how they met, I didn't know about their families or nothing. It was like they were shielding me away from their families, because they were scared of feeling guilty. Like they knew one of their families would fall in love with me and make them look like bad parents. So, I never met any of my families, I doubt they even know I exist. I wanted to meet them, I wanted to feel loved. I wanted to get away from home; I wanted to get away from their dirty looks at me. I wanted them to love me. I never tried to get close to my parents because I knew it was useless, so I stayed a quiet person around them. I kept everything to myself because they wouldn't care about anything I had to say. Overtime, I developed a good eye for body language. I could tell a lot from just how they stood, or how they looked at me. I coped with it, I was never 'in' there, I was always looking from the outside, inspecting the situation. Deciding what action was best to do.

When I started school, things didn't get any better. While trying to fit in, I had to keep on top of my subjects. I always had to have my eyes open, to inspect the situations. I had to keep to myself because I was scared of letting go. I was scared of sharing stuff because I had never done that before, I had never let myself go. Ultimately, I had never had any fun; because I was always too busy trying to think of a way to make situations less threatening. People always tried to crack my shell, but I never really let them, so they kept trying. They kept trying to get inside of me, to try and get to know me. Eventually, they stopped trying, because they got tired. That was until I turned 5. When I turned 5, I met _Santana_. She cracked my shell instantly and then I felt free. I felt like someone had set me free, and from then on, I had always been a straight on person. I never stopped inspecting situations though. It was still necessary because I wasn't safe. No-one was safe. With her, though things seemed to get easier. Time seemed to flow; it didn't tend to stop at an inconvenient time, leaving me to sort it out. It just kept on going, urging me to move on.

My parents hardly took notice of me, they were always too busy trying to please each other, or working or relaxing. I mean, if I came home one night with bright pink hair they wouldn't notice the difference because they hardly even looked at me. They hardly looked me in the eye. In fact, I don't think they've ever met my gaze in a friendly way. They had always stared me down though; they always took their gaze and used it as a weapon against me. Every time they did, I remember always feeling naked against their gaze. It made me feel vulnerable and alone. They hardly brought me anything: for Christmas or my birthday I would get an article of clothing for each of the events. I would always grow out of my clothes, and I couldn't complain because they would use their gaze against me. Sometimes, they would even forget my birthday, and I don't remind them because I never wanted any attention from my parents. They always made me feel like I was below some expectations they had. So, I would just stay in my room, crying dreading the days I still had. For their birthdays or Christmas, I would always get them something with whatever money I had. I never had enough to get them anything but a card, so if I had enough, the only thing I could afford were cards. But if I didn't have enough, I would at least always make an effort, and attempt to make a card. I remember handing the card to them, I remember the looks on their faces when they realised it was just a card. They always threw it in the bin though. I guess it didn't hurt my feelings because I was too dumb to realize that it was an offence against me. It doesn't matter though, because it's the thought that counts, right? Well, whatever it's all in the past now anyway.

To my parents, I wasn't their daughter, I was their slave. I didn't mind. I didn't mind because it was the only thing I could do, that could at least satisfy them even just slightly. They would tell me to get their stuff from here and there. They would tell me to wash the dishes and clothes, sometimes even tell me to iron the clothes. I was like a pet to them, they threw some words at me and I obeyed them, like it was the gospel. All I had ever wanted for the early part of my life was to please my parents. I wanted them to be happy for me; I wanted them to be pleased with me. And because I couldn't quite reach my goal, it made me want to try harder. It made me angry that even though I was trying my hardest to be the perfect daughter, they weren't trying to love me anymore. So eventually, I gave up. I started to hide myself from the world; I started to hide myself from them. I wanted to hide from myself, but it was impossible. I remember feeling like I was being drowned by my own thoughts. I hid under the duvet, I hid behind the trees in my front lawn, but I couldn't get away from myself. Eventually, I realized that hiding wasn't the solution. You had to hide and run. So I ran, but I took it literally. So, I did just that, and I realised that running made my thoughts go away, running made me tired. Running made my mind think about how tired I was. Sometimes I would get bored of running, so I would dance. I would dance in my room, from morning until night. I would dance until I lost myself in the midst of the moves and the music. I would dance until I was too tired to think, I would dance until I would fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	6. Secrets are Bad

**Guys can I please have some feedback, or I would cry or something? lol**

* * *

><p><em>Santana<em> had long dark hair, and dark brown eyes. She wasn't the friendly type of person, but she seemed to like me. I met her when I was 5. We got along straight away; she never thought I was a freak. When I asked her questions, she wouldn't laugh at me and tell me that I was stupid. She would answer me, in all seriousness. Whenever someone called me stupid, and she was in sight, she would punch them as hard as she could. She was the first person that made me feel real. _Santana_ was the first person to make me feel like I was loved. I could sit here and tell you everything about her, I could sit here and tell you how much she meant to me, but we don't have nearly enough time for the words.

Me and her, we started off as friends. We were similar. We didn't like to open up about ourselves; we didn't like to share our private lives, though at that age we didn't really have a private life. But we shared everything anyway because we felt comfortable with each other's presence. We felt like we could get lost in each other's words, but still feel safe after. It felt so natural. It felt real. I didn't doubt her and she didn't doubt me.

She told me about how she always felt alone at home. She told me about her parents, she told me how she felt like her parents didn't love her. And I told her how I felt the exact same way. She told me that I was the only person that made her feel like she was real. She told me that I was the only person that made her feel free.

Eventually our heart-to-hearts made me and her best friends. We developed a one of a kind friendship. Every day, she would wrap her pinkie around mine, it was our comfort thing. I remember looking into her eyes, and automatically my face would light up. I remember looking into her eyes and feeling like I had nothing to worry about. And as I sit here recounting all the times we had together, I can't help but wonder if she still remembers me and everything we used to be.

I was about 10 and a half when my mother gave birth to my sister. Beatrice. She was called Beatrice. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. I had blonde hair and blue eyes.

I loved her with all my heart. I could tell my parents loved her with all their heart. I could tell by the way their eyes lit up at the sound of her wailing, I could tell by the way their mouths formed a smile every time Beatrice would do something utterly adorable. I could tell because they treated Beatrice the exact opposite they treated me. I wasn't jealous; I was too busy observing them. I was too busy learning about new found emotions displayed by them. They didn't let me near Beatrice a lot. They thought I was some dirty kid that would make Beatrice somehow disappointing. It wasn't until then, that I realised something was wrong. It wasn't until then that I felt the lump in my throat growing. It wasn't until then that I felt so angry. I didn't try to get close to Beatrice because obviously my parents didn't want me near her. So I would observe her from a distance. I watched her grow up. That was all I did, I watched her because I couldn't do anything else.

I remember how my parents would get Beatrice expensive things for her birthday, and for mine, I would get an article of clothing that cost a little less than $10. It made me feel helpless. It made me feel so small. I remember feeling so unwanted. It made me keep away from home as much as I could. I would spend all my free time running or dancing in some random street that was far away from the happiness of my parents. Sometimes I would look at them, and I could see how perfect they would be If I hadn't been born. Sometimes I would look at them and realize that I didn't belong. Sometimes I would look at them and run into my room. I remember hiding under my duvet. I remember the feeling of wanting to disappear. I wanted to disappear from the world, but I wanted to take _Santana_ with me.

She would notice the way I started to act less like myself. She would notice the way I tried to avoid her, because I knew she could read me. I knew that she would read me and I would be forced to spill it all out. I didn't want to spill it all out because I was scared she wouldn't understand. I was scared that she would back off; I was scared that she was going to realize that I am just some stupid blonde girl.

I was a coward, I was stubborn. I was just like _Santana_. I was frightened of being abandoned by my parents, because I thought they would finally give me away. I thought they had, had enough of me. I thought they were fed up of seeing my face across the room, looking at them. Staring at them, wishing that I was part of their little bubble. I was tired of being an outsider. All I had ever wanted was just to be loved, but they wouldn't love me. It didn't feel like they couldn't love me anymore, it felt like they were refusing to love me just because they could.

They made me feel unwanted.

I had no-one to turn to, except _Santana_. But I didn't want to burden her with _my_ problems. I didn't want to scare her away because she meant so much to me. She was the most consistent person in my life. She was perfect, she was beautiful, she was nice and she understood me. She was everything I wasn't and couldn't be. _Santana _was the only one who noticed me. She was the only reason I hadn't already broke myself.

I tried to understand my situation; I tried to understand why my parents loved Beatrice so much. I tried to understand why my parents despised me so much. I tried to understand so many things and it made my brain ache.

I listened to them as they told each other they loved each other. I listened as they said sweet nothings to each other, which made me cringe. I listened to their sickeningly sweet giggles as I cried myself to sleep. And then I would realise she was by my side.

I always had secret sleepovers with _Santana. _It wasn't like my parents would care enough to check on me every night. And if Santana couldn't come, I would always sneak out at night, and climb up to her window. I would sleep by her side, feeling like I had nothing to worry about. But then I would wake up and I would have to leave to go back home. And then I would call her an hour later and ask her to come running with me, or dancing.

I made it my destiny to take care of her. I made her my priority, my responsibility, and she made me hers. She made me feel safe in her arms. She made me feel loved. She gave me everything I asked for and I swore to myself that one day, I would return the favour.

**This is quite short, apologies. Feedback please**


	7. Popularity's Overrated&Society's Fucked

All throughout my life everyone had always called me stupid, dumb, and blonde. It made me angry. It made me so angry, and I couldn't let it out, because I was afraid. So, I let my anger build up inside of me, I hid it from the world. But Santana saw it somewhere. Hiding beneath my rough exterior.

"Its okay, B." She had said. "I'll always be by your side."

And I remember it all. I remember staring at her, inspecting her. Trying to figure out how she knew. How she knew I was so angry. I remember backing myself up to a wall, and I suddenly burst into tears. I remember falling on the ground, and clenching my fists by my sides until they felt numb. I remember smashing my head against the wall; I remember her warms hands on my shoulders, trying to prevent me from hurting myself. I remember how she took me into her hands and carried me to her bed. I was always taller than her so, it must have been difficult. I remember her whispering comforting words into my ears. I remember how much it hurt.

She told me I wasn't stupid, she told me I was misunderstood. She said that I was special, and that she meant every word. She told me it would get easier if we were the ones causing the trouble. She said it was important to be at the top. So we joined cheerios. The cheerios, she said, were the most popular girls in the school, so when we got into the team, Santana was over the moon. She said it was a big achievement. I liked cheerios. I liked dancing; I liked what we had to do. Our coach was horrible though. She was mean. She bossed me and Santana around to do her dirty work. I wanted to oblige, I wanted to say no, but Santana said that we had to do it. She said that we would lose everything we worked so hard for otherwise.

Over time, I realised that popularity meant a lot to Santana. She became obsessed with popularity and did almost anything to top her "high score." And I, afraid of losing her, did everything she did. She got off with a lot of boys; I got off with a lot of boys. She told me she hated doing what she did, but she said she needed to do it. She said we needed to do it, together. Every day, I would see the way her eyes would shine with fear, fear of losing everything she worked for, and that was enough of a reason for me to listen to her.

I watched her as she moulded who she was into whom people wanted to see. She turned into an even bigger bitch, she hid herself from everyone. She even tried to hide from me, though of course it didn't work. I developed an eye for her. I could read her with such ease and it felt like I owned her.

We turned into whores. Essentially, we were hated, but we had to be loved. We had to be loved because we were the most popular girls in the school. Everyone would be bowing at our feet's, and stabbing our backs. I tried to understand why Santana craved so much for the wrong attention. I tried and I tried but I didn't get anywhere. I couldn't understand what was so good about being hated but had to be loved. It confused me, and I knew she didn't understand either. I knew she didn't know why they were kissing our arses, but she said that, that was how society worked, and we had to roll with it.

It hurt to see Santana hide. She was fragile beneath her exterior and she was broken. I didn't know how to fix her; I didn't know how she worked. I could tell she was frightened. I could tell she just wanted comfort, outside of my form. I was the only comfort she had, and she wanted to feel something different. She wanted something different, but not overwhelmingly different.

I tried to give her everything, like she gave me everything. I tried to be enough for her, because I was. She just couldn't see through it. I tried to tell her that she didn't have to try so hard. I tried to tell her that we were perfect. I tried to tell her that all of the popularity stuff was just confusing the both of us. It stopped her from getting what she wanted, what she needed and it was making her unhappy. For once, she couldn't understand me. She waved it off and she told me not to be silly. She said popularity was what made her happy. Though, I knew she didn't mean it, it hurt. I was what made her happy, and she didn't want it to be true. She thought denying it would make everything better.

It made everything difficult and I couldn't cope with it. I couldn't break down either, so I would let my tears collect at the corners of my eyes. I would hide it, and when I got home to be faced with a lot more shit, I would cry. I would cry into my pillow, while my parents would be engulfed in happiness with my sister, I would cry before Santana would climb up the wall into my window, or before I would go to climb up her window. I know she would always know I had just been crying, but I would deny it. I didn't want her to carry my problems; she had enough of her own. I don't know how I would do it, but eventually she would stop asking, and she would let me sleep by her side. She used to always wait until I was asleep, and she would brush the hair out of my face with her fingertips, and she would whisper "Nothings ever fair, but it'll get better, I promise." And I would always fake sleep, because the words she whispered every night, they were comfort to me, it made me feel safe, content.

**So, I'm sorry it took me ages to have this posted up, I had already written this up ages ago but I wanted it to be longer, but I kept getting sidetracked. But I just want to be done and over with this story so If I get decent amounts of reviews, I will try my very best for an update a day. I just want to get started on the next sequel.**


	8. Bemusement

There had always been something at the back of my heart that knew more than my body did. It was frightening that every time I would see her my heart beat would rise, like I had just been running for a long time, or the way I would blush at the silliest thing in front of her. It didn't make any sense at first, and although I had always known, I didn't really recognise it as what it really was.

_She was suddenly in front of me; we both had a big smile plastered on our faces. We were both in each other's personal bubble; I don't know how we got so close. The smile on our faces vanished when we realised how close we were. My hands moved to its own accord, and landed on her hips. I could've leaned in and kissed her right then and there, but I was scared that I might have scared her away. I leaned in closing the gap between us, but instead of kissing her I tucked my head into the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. She sighed, like she was disappointed. I felt her warm hands take a hold of my shoulder and slightly push me away. I looked at her in the eye with a solemn expression pasted onto my face. I felt something burn my right cheek, I realised it was her hand. She took plenty deep breaths, and leaned into me. Her body was flush with mine; I could feel the quick, loud rapping of her heart against the quick, loud rapping of my own. My hands travelled upwards on her body, and I let it tangle into her soft dark hair. Her hands were roaming my cheeks, and my neck. Her lips were flush against mine, and I didn't know how to react. I could see a load of colours behind my eye lids and I was starting to get hot, but I didn't want to pull away. I could feel her tongue brushing my bottom lip and I let my mouth open slightly giving her more access. I caught her tongue with my own as I felt the electric buzz go around my body._

She panicked, because she knew it wasn't just an innocent kiss, because she knew she loved me. We had both been confusing friendship with love for a long time, too long. But _Santana_ wasn't ready then, and she did the only thing she could- she panicked.

I realised I loved her, but I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell her because she would freak out, and she would hide. I understood how _Santana_ felt. She was a girl, and I was a girl. I knew her parents wouldn't allow such a thing. I knew mine wouldn't allow such a thing either, or maybe they wouldn't care. Why would they start to care if they hadn't cared the whole of my life anyway? It was confusing, but we never stopped doing what we did. It was the only thing that felt right in our lives of such wrongness.

_Santana _had more of a tougher time than I did, because she denied her feelings. She thought she needed to deny those things because she would lose her popularity, the thing that she thought meant everything to her.

* * *

><p>Our cheerios coach developed a weird obsession to destroy the school's Glee club. She ordered me, <em>Santana<em> and Quinn, the top cheerios to do her dirty work. At first, it was a laugh. But as time grew, we all fell in love with it, and everyone in Glee. Everyone there was weird, but strangely loveable. There was Rachel, kind of like "the top dog" of Glee, though everyone hated admitting it, she had an incredible voice. She was a little annoying, and she spoke weirdly. But she was always nice, she had this little romance with Finn, but between me and you, I'm pretty sure she was getting it on with Quinn. Quinn was one of the cheerios; I and _Santana_ were close with her. She was always quiet and timid. Kurt was one of the guys in glee club, he had a unique high pitched voice, and he had great fashion taste. Puck was a mohawked boy; he was one of _Santana_'s flings. Then there was Artie, Mike and Tina, I found them all really similar, they were quiet, and they kept to themselves. Tina had a fling with both of them. Lauren and Mercedes were both as fierce as each other. Mercedes had an amazing voice. Finn was an awkward tall boy that had flings with Rachel and Quinn. Mr. Schue was our coach, or whatever it is singing coaches are called. _Santana_ said he had an obsession with vests...

* * *

><p>It was one afternoon. I thought she was ready; I just wanted to spill everything because it hurt to keep something so big to myself. I made it discreet. I told her I wanted to sing a song with her in Glee club. She knew too well and read the message I had intended her to read. She snapped back at me, and she lied.<p>

It made me angry that she wasn't ready, when I so clearly was. I knew it was unfair but, I was stupid. I got myself a steady, Artie. I used him, and I feel bad. I used him to make _Santana_ jealous and it worked like a charm.

_Santana_ finally realized that she loved me, but I was with Artie. I didn't know what to do, I didn't love Artie, but I told her I did. I didn't know why I suddenly felt the need to lie, but I did and I wish I hadn't. The only person I'd ever loved was her, I thought she would know. I watched her break in front of me, as the words I told her stung her ears. I wanted to tell her that I was lying and that I loved her, but she flinched away from me and walked away. I felt terrible.

So _Santana_ did what she did best and she bit back, she found herself a steady. Karofsky, he was one of them bully idiots. It made me jealous. I had already broken up with Artie when she got together with Karofsky, and basically offered myself to her. She said she loved me, but she was too frightened. I told her that I would look after her. I told her it would be okay but she wouldn't listen to me.

**I have really lost all my inspiration for this story. Originally this was supposed to be 4 chapters, but yeah. I know there are a lot of you out there, so make yourself heard, also, I think I'm going to start writing the next sequel before I lose my inspiration for that so, I think I'm going to cut this story short, maybe 7 more chapters, but I'll probably cut it shorter than that. Sorrryyyy**


	9. No Winners in this World of Losers

There are no Winners in this World of Losers.

It was one random afternoon, when he raised his hand up high and got ready to hit me. I asked him a question... A stupid question I shouldn't have. That's pretty much when it started. Once they got going they couldn't stop, like it was a drug they were addicted to. Hits turned into punches and punches turned into kicks, and kicks turned into harsh words spoken through their teeth. Their words came out of their mouths straight from their brains, and clambered into my ears and messed with my brain. I could tell by their eyes that they meant every single word and every single hit. I thought I deserved it, I thought it was my fault for being such a sad excuse for a human being, so I dealt with it in my own way. I hid it for a long time because I was afraid of the consequences, and also because I thought I deserved it: which I did, for the most part. But they couldn't stop hurting me. I would have hidden it forever if no-one had found out. I wasn't surprised, though. I knew it was coming, they didn't really like me, and I could see it a mile off.

Who were they? Why, they were Richard and Judy, my parents.

To make matters tougher, as _Santana_ saw me struggling, drowning in my own thoughts she decided to come out of the closet. She thought she was the reason for my struggle. I didn't tell her, I didn't want her to drown with me and I didn't want her to call the cops. It was when I actually went to school, she caught up with me and she held my hand. Though some people wouldn't really think that was a massive step, it was huge to _Santana_, and to me. She also kissed me, in the corridors in front of everyone. We managed to gain a few dirty looks from onlookers.

I wanted to tell _Santana_, especially when she decided that she was finally strong enough to show her love for me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't muster up any courage to tell her. She kept trying to get inside of me, and eventually I had to give in.

I didn't get to tell her though. It's a funny story actually; we were on the way to my house, when she said she had to go do something at her mother's house. So I dropped her off there, and took my time getting home, because I knew what was going to happen, my parents will be in the house waiting for my return ready to strike once more. That's exactly what happened, and _Santana_ walked in on it. She found me sprawled on the floor, with my parents screaming, shouting and kicking me. _Santana_ raged and she fought back for me, I couldn't remember much of what she did, but I remember telling her to stop, because I knew _Santana_ wasn't like them. And to see her do exactly what they were just doing to me, made the world feel wrong and unsteady.

She took me to her house, and I stayed there for a while in _Santana's_ arms. She was trying to calm me, to make me feel safe and I did. I made her promise not to call the cops though, I didn't want any unwanted attention, and I didn't want Beatrice to be taken away by the Social Workers. She promised and she kept her promise, it was like against _Santana_ laws to break promises with me.

I thought Quinn had the right to know, so we met up with her, and that's when the news came out. _Santana_ told her about it and I could tell what was going to happen, so I ran out of the house, while _Santana _pleaded Quinn not to call the cops. I knew there was no way to stop Quinn so I just ran, and eventually _Santana_ decided to run after me. I found myself running to my house, with _Santana _close behind me. Everything that has crossed your mind happened, yes, my parents started hitting me once I got inside, and yes I called for Beatrice, and yes _Santana _had to knock my parents out of the way again. The cops came and my parents were arrested. That was the last time I saw their faces, and I felt so guilty. Because I knew they would be taking Beatrice away to live with some stranger, and any chance of a safe family life with her was destroyed the day I was born. Essentially it was my entire fault and the guilt inside of me started to build up until I could no longer handle it. I wasn't mad at Quinn - that would have been unfair; I knew she tried to do the right thing. It was my fault anyway, so why would I point fingers just to make myself feel better? That's inhumane.

When my 18th birthday came, I felt free. _Santana _had Glee club, apart from Mr. Schue, to come over to _Santana's_ house, and we had a party. It cheered me up. We didn't even have any alcohol present and it still made me feel happy. For one night, I was back.

**Although no one really reviewed the last chapter, I updated anyway. But I really want some feedback for this, I know it's annoying when I ask, but afshdsjkfhg these chapters are getting tougher to write. Also, sorry for mistakes if there are any.**


	10. Tragedies and Futures, Future Tragedies

**So who else is truly disappointed of last night's (in America)/this morning's (in England) happenings? I know I am, but as many people on tumblr have said, it's none of our business. (But it still sucks)**

The day after my birthday, I felt exhausted. It felt like I was being drained, like everything I had left was being taken away from me. It was unbearable; it was then when my mind was made. I knew it was stupid, and it was a mistake but I had good reason. I was going to leave, I didn't want to be _Santana's _burden for any much longer, and everything surrounding me reminded me of too many things and I didn't know how to cope with it anymore. Maybe if I had stayed, I would have healed properly, but it's too late now, and it was my fault.

I woke up holding my breath in _Santana's _arms. I didn't quite know why, at first, but as soon as I took a sharp inhale of the oxygen around me, I started to cry because I could feel again. It was too intense. It was sort of like I was having a random breakdown. Everyone was still there at the house when I woke up. Mike Chang, helped me up, and he took me to the kitchen where we stared at each other.

_Santana_ found us after what seemed like 2 years, but couldn't have been more than 3 minutes. She spotted my crying hysterical presence and I spotted her apologetic look. Mike left me and Santana alone, and I couldn't stop crying. Not even for a minute just to explain to _Santana_ why I was crying. She told everyone to leave, so they did.

And then a prophecy hit. Her phone rang and she had to go out. She could've said no, or she could've said later, but she knew it had to happen. Though if she truly knew, she wouldn't have let me out of her sight, because she knew it was a mistake.

But it happened anyway, I wrote her a letter trying to explain my actions, and I could only imagine how much I would hurt her soul. I upped and left, regretting everything that ever happened. I still remember every single word on the letter I wrote.

I went straight to my Aunt's house, Aunt Jenna. She took pity on me, she told me I could stay there for as long as I wanted, but I refused. I needed a new life with new people in it, so I moved out into New York. It was certainly different, and living without _her_ in my life, certainly was a big challenge for me. I had always wanted to go to New York, but I never imagined going alone.

I went straight to a bar to drown my miseries in alcohol, but just as I was about to walk in, I bumped into a man. We got chatting and he offered me a job, I owe Eric a lot, because he started my new life. He offered me a job as a dance teacher. Dance teacher lead to being a professional dancer, and then I decided to open up a dance studio. It was hard work, trying to fulfil my life without her. I missed her every single day, and there is not one second that passes that I don't wish that I could have stayed.

Overall I regret a lot of the things I did over the years, and I always told myself that I needed to go see her, but I thought it wasn't fair to just turn up at her doorstep and collapse into her arms. It was stupid and fucked up.

Eventually I moved back to Lima, with my studio. Because I missed the familiarity of everything. I never got over _Santana_ and I don't think I ever will. I hope someday to put everything behind us and start again, together, maybe as friends or maybe as something more. I just hope I didn't break her too much. I hope to one day pluck up enough courage to see her. One day, I want to be forgiven.

And _Santana..._ I truly am sorry.

**Okay that was the last chapter, I want some feedback. And urg you guys, all this speculations about Heather and Naya not being close anymore is breaking my heart:-( This was kinda rubbish, sorry. Please look out for the final sequel, I promise it'll be better than this one times 100. It'll probably be called Broken Girls or something similar, I'll try to post it tonight maybe.**


End file.
